


Changing Your Key

by lori (zakhad), zakhad



Series: Captain and Counselor, the revised versions [24]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-05-02 02:58:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19190545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: Wesley hasn't been around in a long time. Coming back to the Federation and the family proves more difficult than he expected.





	1. Chapter 1

With a changing key,  
you unlock the house where  
the snow of what’s silenced drifts.  
Just like the blood that bursts from  
Your eye or mouth or ear,  
so your key changes.

Changing your key changes the word  
That may drift with flakes.  
Just like the wind that rebuffs you,  
Clenched round your word is the snow.

― Paul Celan

 

Wesley waited for the  _Enterprise_ for a day on Starbase 329. The public transport had been an excellent opportunity to people-watch -- there were so many species traveling in the Federation now. For every meal he went to the restaurant at the top of the station, where there were viewports all around from which he could see the stars and the ships coming and going. There was a docking ring ten decks below, along the widest section of the station, but many of the Starfleet vessels would orbit and use their transporters.

He was lingering with coffee after breakfast when the new  _Enterprise_ arrived. It was sleek, streamlined, and larger than everything else currently in orbit. The little light from the station and the running lights partially illuminated her. 

He knew things would be as different as the design of the ship. Seeing everyone on Casperia had been illuminating -- the changes in Captain Picard had been most obvious, but there were signs that everyone had seen some growth and change. He had spent more time talking with Geordi and Data than anyone else. 

He felt guilty that he had avoided Deanna. She was beautiful -- and he was embarrassed. His immediate reaction was a strong physical attraction, which she of course knew about the minute he felt it, and it made the entire meeting awkward and awful for him. 

The alien freighters and then the transports across Federation space had been largely filled with other species. He hadn't seen many humans on the way to Casperia. That he had such a physical reaction to her made sense; he'd had a similar response to some of the tourists he'd encountered at the resort, and a couple of the staff. None of them were empathic, though. Reacting so unexpectedly and strongly to her had rendered him speechless.

This time, he told himself, he'd be ready. He'd been corporeal for weeks and hopefully better able to control himself.

"Hi."

Wes glanced up -- a woman in uniform, an ensign, stood there smiling at him. She had short hair and warm brown eyes. "Hi," he said with a grin.

"Natalia Greenman, at your service," she said. "Commander Troi asked me to come get you."

"How'd you find me here? It's a big station." He stood up and offered his hand.

"She's waiting out in the corridor." Greenman pointed at the exit. "We were going to the station offices, and she saw you in here."

"Oh, okay," he said, following her, leaving the cooling cup of coffee behind. 

Deanna was waiting in the corridor outside the restaurant; she smiled her on-duty smile, a subdued version of her happy, off duty one. "Wesley, hello," she said with genuine warmth. "How are you?"

"Doing good -- looking forward to spending some time on the _Enterprise,_ " he said. He walked with her, as she turned and started moving along the broad corridor. "I saw the ship arrive. It's pretty impressive."

"I know you had a tour already at Casperia. It didn't include a shuttle recon?" Deanna eyed Greenman. "Sounds like a job for a helmsman."

"Sure, I need to log more shuttle hours anyway."

"The captain asked me to meet with the station commander," Deanna said, as they approached the big double door at the end of the corridor. "I don't think it will take more than ten minutes or so, if you want to wait here. Natalia and I intend to stop at a couple of stores on our way back to the transporter."

"I'll hang out. No problem. Not like I have to be anywhere."

Deanna turned and strode toward the doors; they opened and she went inside. She'd braided her hair, pinned the braids up on the back of her head, and there was a purple, gold and black insignia of some kind on the back of her neck. The doors closed on their view of her back as she went in.

"So, you were at the helm when you were an acting ensign?" Natalia said. Obviously people had been talking about him.

"That feels so long ago now. I've been traveling a lot outside the boundaries of the Federation, it's been almost ten years.... And I lost track of time for a while."

The ensign leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, and so Wes did too. That way they were out of the way of anyone going or coming. Greenman even let her head fall back against the wall. "Or you were keeping track of time by the measure of whoever you were visiting? I spent a few weeks on Andoria. The length of the days really messes you up."

"There was that, too." He thought this was the wrong setting to launch into detailed descriptions of some of his more otherworldly experiences while noncorporeal. Coming back from those had taken a lot more time with each transition. He was sure that his mind had not processed some of those either. "So are you a recent Academy grad?"

"Recent is relative. I was assigned to the  _Enterprise_ for my field experience, was approved for an additional four months for credit, and then I graduated finally, didn't do the whole ceremony back on Earth and didn't care, because I'd rather just stay aboard. I didn't like the Academy," she said, her tone changing a little as she added that footnote. 

"It was fine while I was there, until one of my squadron members died, and then I just burned out on the whole idea of Starfleet."

She was looking at him, he realized, and he gazed back at her. When their eyes met she shrugged a little. Uncomfortable. She said, "I thought about getting some training and going commercial. You can fly a transport as a contractor and not be Starfleet. But my father was Starfleet, my grandfather was Starfleet, my uncle was captain of the  _Horatio_. I wanted to see if it really worked for me. I think if I had gotten anything but the  _Enterprise_ I might have dropped out already."

"Really?"

Greenman watched a lieutenant-commander in sciences blue go through the door. The Bajoran officer nodded politely at them on the way in. After the door sighed shut, she turned back to him. "Have they told you about how it's been since the war ended?"

"I've heard some things. But I haven't really spent a lot of time socializing." It was hard to explain how tired he had been. His mother's efforts in sickbay notwithstanding, he wondered if his body hadn't been altered forever by traveling. 

The door opened, and Deanna was back. They stood away from the wall, Wes coming to attention out of old habit, and she was amused, her eyes laughing. "Come on. We want to visit the station quartermaster, as I believe he is holding a shipment for the captain. And Natalia wanted to shop for a few things, and I have a birthday gift to buy."

"Captain Picard Day already?" Wes asked, grinning -- the captain had hated that 'holiday.'

"Yes, next week."

"I didn't realize," Greenman said. "Huh. I should get him something. A teabag?"

Wes blinked -- but Deanna was laughing at it. "Perhaps more than one?" She turned and led them off toward the stores.

Making jokes about Captain Picard? Wes followed them, and started to think about getting something for his mentor himself. The store they stopped in was one of those that catered to officers on long tours, lots of foods from different worlds, specific kinds of dishes and other things that would remind people of home. He chose a Vulcan game, Kal-toh, and had his bag in hand while waiting at the door. Greenman had two bags, and Deanna came over as well with a bag. They departed for the quartermaster's office, which apparently was near the transporter on the same deck. Deanna's shipment had to be beamed to the ship, so there was nothing to carry, and the item's identity remained a mystery.

"We're having a party for him?" Wes asked, half-kidding.

"Well, the children will throw a party, he will probably show up for a while and thank them for drawings and funny little clay things that look like his bald head. He might even eat some cake." Deanna glanced at him -- up slightly, as he was taller -- and tucked her hand around his arm. "Will you join us for dinner tonight?"

"Of course."

 

* * *

 

Wes arrived at the captain's quarters early, and stared at the names on the door. He remembered things his mother had said about the captain in the past. Thinking that she felt something for him. He had been tempted to ask, while he was aboard the _Valiant_ with her, about that -- but she was still Mom, and it felt like something she wouldn't talk about now.

Now that he was married.

He finally pressed the single button, and the door opened. Deanna stood in the middle of the room facing the door, smiling, wearing a pink dress, off the shoulders, with a flowing skirt. "Would you like something to drink? Some wine? I was about to pour myself a glass."

He'd never had wine. "Sure. But just a little."

Now that he thought about it, there were a lot of things he'd missed. There had been a few girls, but no real girlfriends -- he'd lost touch with Robin, because they had both been really busy and long distance was hard. He'd anticipated, and officers had told him -- Will Riker had told him -- that early in an officer's career, most of his energy would be poured into the career, that relationships were distracting and would slow down the path to promotions.

"Are you all right?" Deanna asked casually, as she poured half a glass of wine and held it out to him. He went to take it, smiling apologetically.

"I'm adjusting to being back and corporeal. It's been disorienting. Finding Mom, and then once I relaxed and started to spend more time thinking, I'm finding that I feel... different."

Deanna gazed into his eyes, holding her own glass in both hands in front of her. "And you wonder about the captain, getting married and living with me, when you remember what it was like before you feel a dislocation from that past. It feels strange to be here."

"Are you sure you aren't telepathic?" he cracked, laughing at himself in embarrassment.

"You are not the first of our friends to have this issue, and you will not be the last." She had a resigned sort of amusement as she said it.

"This is pretty good. I don't know about wine though. I feel like I missed so much."

She continued to gaze at him sympathetically. "You did?"

"I should have sat down to talk to one of you before I stayed on Dorvan," he said, thinking about angry young Ensign Crusher.

Deanna's eyes were sad, and her right hand went to his arm. "Traveling was an experience you'll never forget, but you regret leaving your life with us behind?"

"Got it in one."

Her lips twitched into a brief smile. "Regret is such a human response to so many things. I have to remind people often that none of us are really able to look into the future and see the outcomes of decisions we are making today."

 "I bet." Movement over her right shoulder caught his eye, and he realized there was a large frame on the wall over the couch, and in the frame, one of the pictures from the wedding. Deanna standing with his mother, holding her bouquet, both of them smiling happily and standing with a green lawn and blue sky behind them. "I think part of my dislocation has to do with walking into the end of the wedding. Maybe if I'd shown up here, or on  _Valiant_ , it would have felt different."

She turned and walked away to stand in front of the coffee table looking up at the picture. "I enjoyed that time on Casperia so much. It felt surreal to me as well, however, because it was so very different than it is here. But we always had some happy moments, aboard the  _Enterprise_. We had our own sort of magic, didn't we?"

Wes smiled as he sipped a little more of the dark red wine. "I figured that out after I left. There were a lot of things about the Academy that were difficult, that had nothing to do with the classes."

He had the distinct impression that she was upset; something about the stiffness in her back, the way she wrapped her arm across her stomach, suggested it. But when she turned back to him she was smiling again. "We talked a bit about that before you left, but I'm sure the experience was more powerful than any suggestion of mine could prepare you for. So tell me -- now that you're back, readjusting, do you think that you'll ever want to travel that way again?"

"No. I think I'm back for good."

The door opened, and the captain came in -- he had his flute in one hand, and he wasn't in uniform. That was perhaps less startling than his demeanor -- he smiled and held out a hand. "Wesley! Good to see you," he exclaimed, firmly shaking hands.

Deanna silently moved past the table, putting her glass on it, and went to the replicator. 

"Hello, sir," Wes said.

"Oh, no. You are not in Starfleet. No need for that," the captain scolded mildly.

"Mr. Picard?"

The captain appealed to Deanna with an incredulous look, but she carried plates and silverware to the table and said nothing. "Very well, if you must. So -- how is your mother doing?"

It was just a polite opener and his mom was their good friend, so Wes tried not to be bothered by it. He knew he was being oversensitive to it. But he'd long ago gotten over being Jack Crusher's son, or Dr. Crusher's son; he'd wanted to be himself, not always seen as an extension of a parent. And at the Academy, he'd started to regret telling people he'd lived aboard the  _Enterprise_ , as everyone wanted to ask him about Captain Picard once they found out.

"Mom's doing great. I guess this guy she likes has some plan to get them on the same ship together, she was hinting at it before I left."

That was startling to both of them -- Deanna had a moment of wide-eyed surprise, but she covered it quickly with a smile. The captain looked to her, and she said, "I guess they're more serious than we thought."

"I'm happy for them," the captain replied, not sounding happy.

"Tom is a little too Tom, for him," Deanna said with a smirk. She brought two bowls of food that Wes thought smelled like curry.

"Yeah. I can see how that might be true, he's like this weird sort of happy-go-lucky guy, but you know there's more to him than that. I mean, Mom doesn't get along with just anyone. She likes intelligent men."

A strange look passed between them. The captain went to the replicator himself, while Deanna poured a third glass of wine. There was an odd moment of silence. "Tom is that," Deanna said, sounding normal. "So you've met him?"

"They have a way of hooking up a holodeck to the subspace channels now, I guess an extension of the frame they developed to project holograms out to vessels during the war? So they sometimes meet on the holodeck. Mom took me with her and I got to shake his hand, sort of, and talk to him."

"Oh," the captain said. "I wasn't aware of that development."

"It seems like a logical enough extension -- we should be having briefings with the admiral in the holodeck," Deanna said, though he wondered from the sly smile if she might be thinking something else.

"Perhaps." The captain probably thought the same thing, which was why his expression went so carefully blank and he paid too much attention to getting food.

"So what is it like, being noncorporeal?" Deanna asked. She picked up her fork.

Wesley reached for a bowl to serve himself. "It's hard to explain. But I'll give it a try. Maybe I've been corporeal long enough this time that I can do it."

 

* * *

 

 

Wes woke up at five hundred with the alarm, threw on some sweats, ran a comb through his hair, and went down to holodeck two. Deanna's invitation to join them for their morning run had surprised him, but in retrospect it was a clear sign that his status had changed with them. Curiosity, when the time came to lever his weary self out of bed, led him to follow through.

He ran into them in the lift; his suite was on a different deck. They were both wearing the workout grays and she'd pulled all her hair back into a ponytail somehow. Both of them smiled. "The wine must have hit you hard," the captain said, amused. 

"Or he's not an early bird," Deanna said.

"A little of both. It's good wine."

"A run will do you some good." The turbolift opened, and the captain led the way out. When they arrived the holodeck doors were standing open, with a program in progress. When he was startled by it, the captain noticed, and said, "There is a regular schedule of open holodeck time, that crew can share it."

"We call it the hello-deck," Deanna added as they strolled in. And started to run -- the program was pastoral, fields of green, flowers and a few trees sprinkled throughout with a dirt trail that ran right through. As they jogged along there were others walking and jogging, mostly going the other way, and all of them said hello to them as they ran along.

Wesley had to stop multiple times and breathe, sweat, and rest. He toughed it through until they were back at the door, and Deanna asked the replicator standing just inside for water for all of them. "Thanks," he said as she handed over a bottle. 

"A little out of shape, Mr. Crusher?" The captain drank water and nodded to a strange-looking alien coming in the door. "Good morning, Mr. deLio. This is Wesley Crusher, a former crew member and friend. He'll be aboard for a little while."

The alien studied him with intense yellow eyes, and Wes had to remind himself not to assume that just because an alien appeared angry did not mean they actually were. "Welcome, Mr. Crusher," the alien said in a reedy tenor. He looked at Deanna, gave her a nod. "Commander."

"deLio," she said, her expression suggesting fondness. "Have a good run. We're off to breakfast -- see you at ten hundred for the cadet exercises of the day."

The alien nodded, the long pendulous jowls bobbing, and then he set off up the trail, his thin legs and arms moving rapidly but mechanically. 

"The L'norim are Federation members now," Deanna said, as they left the holodeck. "deLio is our security chief."

"You have cadets on board?" Wes asked.

"We do. A program to build more field experience into training cadets," the captain said. "We have a new bunch every few months. A few of them manage to stay aboard for some reason."

"He met Natalia yesterday," Deanna said, between sips of water. They walked together slightly ahead of Wes, and though they didn't touch each other he could see a difference in their attitude; the captain would glance at her more often as they talked.

"She's a bad influence," he replied. It startled Wes until he noticed the little telltale quirk of his lips -- he was joking, which suggested he was fond of the ensign.

"At least she's a good influence on the cadets," Deanna said. She followed the captain into the turbolift, turned around, and watched Wes come in with a thoughtful expression. The captain noticed, and chuckled.

"What?" Wes asked.

"You're about to be volunteered for something," he said.

Deanna gave him a disdainful curl of her lip. "Jean."

"I know that look. You look that way every time you think of something I should be doing."

"I was about to  _ask_ Wes if he wanted to come to the class," she said loftily. "Because I thought he might be considering Starfleet again. This morning we're having a round robin about the Prime Directive."

"That tired subject?" 

Wes was a little taken aback by this exchange. This sounded similar to the kind of sarcastic banter he'd heard married people use, but this was Captain Picard, joking about cadet training. 

"Jean-Luc," she scolded gently. The lift stopped on their deck. 

"I'll see you later, Wes." The captain walked out, and Deanna stopped in the open door.

"We'll be in conference room three at ten hundred, if you have any interest in joining us," she said, touching his arm. "And if you don't we'll see you this evening for the ensemble?" 

"I'll think about it. Right now I just want a shower."

Deanna stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, and followed her husband. Once the door closed and the lift moved on, he sighed and leaned against the wall. 

Lunch with Geordi should be less tense, he thought.

 

* * *

 

He opted out of the cadet class by falling asleep again and not waking up in time. But Wes made it to Ten Forward in time for lunch with Geordi, who was smiling happily as he walked up to the table in front of a viewport. 

"Wes," he greeted, swinging out an arm to clasp hands and pulling him into a hug. "Good to see you again."

"Thanks, you too." Wes sat down again facing him across the table. One of the two civilian staff came over, took their lunch order, and went to get it for them. 

"You're settling in okay? I have a project you might be interested in, so just let me know when you're bored," Geordi said with a grin. 

"I'd like to hear about it. Deanna asked me if I wanted to sit in on some of the cadet stuff -- I guess you have a bunch of cadets on board now?"

"Yeah, that's made the workload increase actually. We've been really putting them through their paces." Geordi sat back in the chair as Tori returned with beverages, putting them on the table in front of them. "Thanks," he said as the young lady departed.

"Trying to help with the personnel issues after the war, I guess?"

"It's been tough, and recruitment has been slowly recovering but it's still not quite there. Did you talk to the captain about it?"

Wes shrugged. "I don't know if Starfleet will ever be a good fit for me. But I'll do a little research and maybe attend one of the classes on board before I really dismiss the idea. At this point I figure I should be open minded about opportunities."

Tori brought back their food and left again. Wes hesitated to start eating, as Geordi was watching him and appeared to be thinking. 

"It must be tough, coming back to everything being so different," Geordi said at last.

"Yeah. The ship is gone, and this one -- it's different. I knew it would be. And I had dinner with the captain and the counselor last night. That was _really_ different."

Geordi chuckled. "Oh, yeah. They're something. I just never saw that one coming -- one minute they hardly look at each other, and wham! Suddenly, they're everywhere together. She's just flipped a switch or something -- she's been exercising and teaching mok'bara, and the whole thing with the cadets is pretty amazing. She and Data created this program, they're rotating those cadets through the departments while they're sitting in class twice a week and then she has a group therapy thing. Lets them process the Academy experience."

"I guess I would have to see him on duty, and maybe it's just that I'm not an ensign any more, but -- has he really changed that much?" 

Geordi put down his glass and picked up his fork. "Well, on duty he's pretty much the same. There are a few differences -- he doesn't treat her much different, if anything he's started to be more formal with her. Calls her by rank more than he calls her counselor, these days, but maybe that's also a reflection of the fact that she's not his personal counselor any more."

"Yeah, that would make sense. But I don't remember him being...."

"You mean like the way he was at the wedding." Geordi ate a mouthful of pasta before continuing. "That was new. He seems to want to be more than just an officer. He said something about that at one point, when Will commented on it, when we were playing poker -- that he wanted to find a balance. Stay in touch with friends, have a family."

"Mom said that his brother and his nephew died. She thinks that has something to do with it." 

"Well, maybe, but I think.... Did you get lonely, when you were out wandering the galaxy?"

Wes laughed. It wasn't as though the obvious problem with being a Traveler hadn't been obvious when he'd left. He simply had been hungry for something, anything, but the depression and stress of being a cadet when he really wanted something else. The problem was, there hadn't been anything to show him the way. 

"It's been difficult -- the war, and everything after, it's like all the energy got sucked out of Starfleet," Geordi said. "Or at least out of the people."

"So they feel lonely and isolated?"

"A lot of us lost someone in the war. We lost crew. We were either supporting the fleet or patrolling -- there were skirmishes. Some weeks I thought I'd never leave engineering." Geordi put down his fork and sat back, as if the topic made him lose interest. "We seemed to have memorials every other week. The poker game stopped. The concerts stopped. I had a hard time being interested in anything but sleeping, for a while."

Wes ate another few bites of the bland salad. He'd had a little practice now, so it wasn't hard to come up with a summary of his own experience. "I spent a lot of time not being human. It's hard to know how to feel anymore. I think the first full week as I am now, I started to feel again -- it was like I had to get used to having a nervous system again. So when I showed up on Casperia, I was still a little off. And now I'm just left without an idea of what to do next. I spent my childhood thinking I was going to be in Starfleet, and it was just a bad fit. I never really thought about anything else. And now on top of that, all of you had this incredibly difficult experience, in the war, all of you changed, and it just...." He thought about his mother. The way she had hugged him, listened to him, gave him her attention when he asked for it, but her attitude toward him was more distant. "I guess I was looking for familiar, to ground myself, and it's not anyone's fault that it's not there. But now I feel so out of place."

"Maybe you should think about talking to the counselor," Geordi suggested. "But I wouldn't start with Deanna if you think you'll need ongoing sessions. It sounds like she's not going to be the ship's counselor for much longer."

"What are you talking about?" 

Geordi smiled at his shock. "I mean, she's doing a lot of things that aren't counseling lately. And Data has said several times that she would be a good choice for first officer when he leaves. It's no secret that experienced first officers are being offered promotions right and left. I'm thinking that Data's right, actually. She's been leading away missions and taking point in diplomatic situations. And I've been on a couple of those with her -- she's really gotten a lot more confident as an officer, and I think she would be able to stand up to the captain if she had to. She already did as a counselor, or so he's said."

"But they're married. Has there ever been a married couple that close together in the chain of command?"

"Yeah," Geordi said, "but I don't think it'll be that much of an issue. Hang out for a while and see if you can observe on the bridge some time. You'll see."

Wes nodded. Not much to do but roll with it. He picked up his fork again. "So tell me what this project is about?"

 

* * *

 

"I used to pilot shuttles and the _Enterprise_ , but this is new," Wes said, looking around the cockpit. 

Natalia glanced over her shoulder as she started the checklist -- double checking all systems before calling the bridge. "The latest and greatest in runabouts," she said, spinning the chair and holding out her arms, going right back to tapping the panels as she completed the spin. 

Wes laughed and plopped down into the co-pilot's chair. His third day with the  _Enterprise_ was turning out to be fun -- Deanna had assigned Natalia to showing him around, and a shuttle ride around the ship was high on the list.

He watched her pilot the runabout out of the shuttle bay, and she took them out a little farther than necessary then executed a Chandelle, putting them on an approach to the  _Enterprise_ nose to nose. She slowed as they floated up over the saucer section and between the nacelles. Wes studied the exterior noting differences and similarities to the Galaxy class.

"Smaller than the Galaxy class," he commented. "But there's a lot of phaser arrays."

"The Sovereign is more powerful. They built them to fight. The quantum torpedoes were specifically engineered for fighting the Borg." She glanced at him, but kept most of her attention on the panel. "How are you doing? Still disoriented?"

"It's getting easier. I slept a little better last night. So are you planning to go all the way to four pips, or do you have a specialty?"

"If I can get there, I intend to be a captain. I have a lot of work to do." She didn't like talking about herself; she didn't look at him and had a slight frown.

"You seem to be doing pretty well. Captain Picard put you on the bridge -- that says he sees a lot of potential in you."

It startled her; she stared at him, shook herself and returned her attention to the piloting of the runabout. And she said nothing, which suggested she had been rattled more than he'd thought.

"Sorry," he said, not sure what else to say. 

Natalia shook her head. She took the runabout under the aft nacelle and along the secondary hull. 

"Mom said you were one of their bridesmaids?" 

Changing the topic didn't help. She blushed and kept flying slowly along the hull, so closely that he could almost see in viewports along the way. 

They were silent all the way around the deflector dish, and she started to make a pass up toward the starboard nacelle. The runabout swooped up and over it, angling for the shuttle bay. 

"Okay," Wes said. "I'm not sure what I said, but I hope -- "

"Look," Natalia said, as the runabout set down gently on the pad. She quickly tapped out the instructions to shut down the engines and put the computer in idle mode. Swiveling her chair to the right, she faced him with a stern expression. "There's nothing inappropriate about my relationship with the captain."

Wes gaped at her. "I -- I didn't say there was! I was just trying to find something to talk about!"

Natalia put her hands together and leaned forward slightly, still blushing. "Then I guess I misunderstood. Sorry."

"Captain Picard wouldn't let anyone get close, when I came aboard with my mom," he said. "He's still really selective, so that's all I really meant. I didn't mean to imply there was anything wrong. I'm sorry."

"It's just -- " She looked around wildly, and settled on staring down at the arm of his chair. "I already get accused of it, so I guess I'm being sensitive."

"Oh," he blurted angrily. "That's not right! By whom?"

"It doesn't matter."

"But it does. You should tell someone. Commander Data," he said. "Because that's an accusation against the captain."

She shrugged uncomfortably. "Not so much an accusation. It's -- never mind," she said. "I need to go."

She launched herself toward the back of the runabout and out the exit, leaving him to follow, and he didn't try to keep up with her. Instead he headed for his quarters. As he approached the door he saw that Counselor Troi was waiting for him, hands behind her back and straight-faced. 

"Hi," he said. "Just got back from my tour around the ship."

"And?" She eyed him as if to say she knew something was going on.

"I said something that upset Ensign Greenman. I didn't know it would -- I commented on the -- I think you should talk to her, I think she wouldn't want me to tell you."

Deanna nodded. "All right. But I'll be back." She turned and walked off.

Wes grimaced. He went in and sat down on the end of the bed. For the first time in years, he felt like an awkward kid.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 After resting and regrouping, Wes went to engineering. There were a lot of people taking some leave so Geordi and one other officer were there, and not so busy as usual. "Hey," Geordi called out. He held up a padd. "Got something for you."

Wes took the padd and glanced at it. He'd reviewed some of the specs of the Sovereign class briefly, and this was about the proposed update and how it would be implemented. "So these bio-neural gel packs, they really speed up reaction time?"

"They do. A little high maintenance, but the response time helped us get out of some situations. So what do you think of the proposed upgrades? Batris came up with the idea." Geordi paused. "Wes?"

Wes studied the padd. "I wonder if the upgrade will put too much strain on the EPS system."

"Are you all right?"

He almost snapped at him. But Geordi didn't deserve that. Wes took a deep breath. "I had a bit of a -- I don't even know what to call it. Ensign Greenman took me out in a runabout for a tour around the ship, and something I said set her off."

"Ah," Geordi exclaimed. "She can be a little sensitive sometimes."

"I get the impression she has a tough time fitting in. I can relate." He didn't need to tell Geordi how hard it had been for him.

"Nat is a hard worker, but she's had some tough times when she was a kid. The captain took her under his wing early on, she's been better, but she hasn't been in engineering since she's been stationed on the bridge for alpha shift." Geordi gestured at the door. "I could use a coffee, want to go to Ten Forward with me?"

"Sure. So she's friendly with the captain, so why would she get so upset if I notice that?"

Geordi kept his eyes forward as they left engineering and strolled down the corridor toward the turbo lift. "I don't think she appreciates being the focus of attention."

"Ha, I can relate to that," Wes said.

"I think you should talk to her again. You could help her out with it."

"I don't know, shouldn't she be in counseling?"

Geordi gave him that "you know better" look. Of course she probably was already in counseling. "Did you get a look at the ship specs?"

"I spent some time last night scanning through them. We should think about adding some relays near the main junction of the ODN network, before we start working on tying in new dampeners...."

 

* * *

 

Wes left Geordi in engineering after an hour of brainstorming, and went to find the captain. He was of course in his ready room. When he got to the bridge, Data was one of the two officers keeping watch. 

"The captain is speaking to Admiral Zola on subspace," Data said. "But you may wait here." He indicated the seat to his left, where the counselor usually sat.

"I guess you're pretty busy as first officer, but if you have time maybe we could talk?"

"I would like that, Wesley. I have time this afternoon. Would you like to spend time on the holodeck?"

"Let's just talk, if you don't mind. I hear you have a dog?"

Data's assertion that he had no feelings was difficult to believe, sometimes. He smiled at the mention of the dog. "I do. His name is Toto."

"The channel was terminated, sir," the man at tactical said. "You can see the captain now."

Wes smiled at the android and went to the ready room door to signal for entry.

The ready room was very different. The new standard issue decor was darker, lots of shades of gray, and he noticed as he approached the captain's desk that while there was still a sofa, there was also a small alcove with a bunk, in addition to a replicator and a water closet. 

"Good afternoon, Wes." The captain smiled at him, as he sat down in front of the desk and briefly relived memories of doing that dozens of times before.

"I'm talking to Geordi about helping with his redesign -- I thought I should ask permission to help them implement it." 

"I don't see why not. As long as Geordi is supervising." He gazed at Wes for a moment. "It would help you settle in, I think."

"I'm doing okay, except -- sometimes I feel like I'm numb. Or just not myself -- a lot of that actually." When the captain didn't react with discomfort or deflection, just nodded understanding, he continued. "It feels like I was turned into something else for a long time, which I really was technically, and it's hard to feel emotions sometimes. And in some ways it feels like I'm seventeen again."

"It's where you left off -- that makes sense. It sounds as disorienting as being assimilated." The captain took a contemplative tone, musing about his situation, but it reminded Wes of all the life-altering experiences the captain had had. "But it does get better with time."

'I guess I should go to counseling. I'm surprised Deanna hasn't suggested that yet."

"You can of course talk to Counselor Davidson. He'll be taking over as ship's counselor, in a few months."

Wes blinked and did a double take. "He will?"

"Yes. For some reason, Data wants to transfer to another vessel. I need a first officer."

"Oh." He tilted his head and nodded. "Yeah, I can see it."

"You can?"

"Those of us who have been in counseling with her before know, don't we?" Wes grinned. "Take No Prisoners Troi?"

That made him chuckle, and there was definitely a light in his eyes when the captain thought about her. "Oh, yes, that would be her."

Wes thought of how long ago it had been, how different he'd been, and tried to embrace the present. "You've changed a lot, sir."

It didn't upset him. It might have, once. The captain merely raised an eyebrow. "It does happen, from time to time."

"Are you planning to have kids?"

The smile said that was not an annoying question any more. "We do."

"That's great! I think you'll be great parents."

The captain looked at him with that light in his eyes, and the intensity that he had when he felt strongly about something. "I hope so."

"I've been remembering more about when I was a kid," Wes said. "For a long time I lost it. I got caught up in where I was, what I was doing, didn't really think much about the past. I was so angry that I really didn't want to." He paused, when the captain's eyes were briefly filled with surprise. 

"That sounds very familiar to me." The annunciator sounded off, and his expression hardened. "Come."

Deanna came in, and the captain straightened in his chair. It was funny, he had been relaxed and almost personable, and his wife's arrival brought him up to formal. 

"Captain," she said. "I need to speak to you." She sounded all business, and wasn't smiling. "Would you excuse us, Wes?"

"I'll see you later," Wes said, standing up and sidling left. He went for the door, not looking back. Even though he felt left out when people stopped talking about Starfleet business when he was around, he understood why they couldn't. And for some of it he was sure he didn't want to know.

 

* * *

 

His fourth day back on the  _Enterprise,_ Wes started to feel less lost. He spent more time with the captain, and started to talk to him about things other than his father or Starfleet -- they discussed things popping up in the newsfeeds, and a question about the wine started a conversation about the winery, which he now ran from afar in his brother's absence. And he went on a visit to the holodeck with Wes and played velocity. And Geordi's project, a potential upgrade for the inertial dampener systems, was a good challenge to get him thinking like an engineer again.

Deanna introduced him to Counselor Davidson when he asked her about counseling. Davidson was a pleasant enough guy. Easygoing and friendly, and not Betazoid. Wes found that he was actually easier to talk to than Deanna would have been, especially after that awkward meeting on Casperia. And Davidson knew nothing about him, so there was no emotional baggage between them -- starting with a clean slate with someone actually felt good. Davidson had no expectations.

He spent an evening in Ten Forward to start meeting new people. Unlike the  _Valiant_ crew, folks on the  _Enterprise_ were friendly, and some were interested in him in other ways. He rebuffed the men and found a few women who enjoyed flirting with a man who wasn't a co-worker. His being new to the ship made him interesting. The  _Enterprise_ was larger, had more people aboard, and some of the cadets weren't just teenagers so there were some he found easier to talk with. 

He returned to his quarters and thought about his mother -- he hadn't talked to her since leaving the  _Valiant_ other than a quick message confirming he had reached the  _Enterprise._ He contacted the bridge and asked for a channel to the  _Valiant._ His mother answered, and sounded happy. "Hi Mom."

"I was hoping I would hear from you." She smiled at him from the small viewscreen. "How are you doing?"

"Better, I think. More time as a normal human is helping. I'm exercising more. And I had an appointment with Counselor Davidson today."

That made her even happier. "Ben's a good counselor. Do you like him?"

"He's easy to talk to. I think it'll help. How are things going for you? I bet you just talked to Tom."

She giggled -- it was easy to make her blush, if he referred to Tom. "I did. He asked how you were doing."

"I guess you might be getting married soon too?"

That sobered her up some. She blinked, actually thought about it. "I don't know if I want to do that."

"Maybe some day. But you're happy with him?"

"Things are going fine with him. How is everyone?"

"Great. Geordi has me working with him on a project. I wasn't quite sure about the captain, but he's not so tense any more, and he seems to be okay with the cadets. Somehow I expected him to be irritated by them. Some of them ask some interesting questions. I sat in on one of Deanna's group activities and it was really amazing. She's different too."

"Oh, yes," Mom said. "She's somehow much more... I don't know how to describe it."

Wes thought about watching Deanna with the cadets. "I think she's just more comfortable in command than she was." 

Mom nodded, looking down at the desk in front of her, apparently lost in thought. 

"I always thought you would get together with Captain Picard," he said, immediately kicking himself for saying it. Something about being on subspace with her made it easier to ask the question he'd almost asked before, numerous times over the years.

Her eyes went wide. She recovered more quickly than he thought she would, and surprised him by not being angry. "He's a good friend, Wes. Your father's best friend. And... I don't think it would ever have worked. He wasn't ready for anything like that."

"Wasn't he involved with someone on board, once?" Will Riker had said something, one time, that had made him assume. 

"Yes, and it didn't last long. Because it just wasn't good timing -- or maybe he wasn't ready, or she wasn't. Relationships are not so simple that there are easy explanations. Both he and Deanna changed a lot, or it probably wouldn't have happened with her."

"I used to wonder if I would meet someone and get married. Now I'm wondering if I really want to. I -- " He paused, waiting for the surge of emotion to pass. "I don't know what I'm saying. I'm babbling. It's way too soon to think about stuff like that."

"I wonder why you're babbling about it, then," Mom said, chin in hand. 

"Probably watching the captain being so happy with Deanna." Being around them had been unsettling; it would start to feel almost like old times, and then they would look at each other and he had to do a double-take. 

"I guess," Mom said, looking sly, "you must be in a unique position -- you're not crew, so they don't have to be so formal with you. So you get to see them being more themselves."

"Naw, they're themselves all the time. Just not always the same side of them."

"I understand we'll see them soon. Tom is being given a Sovereign class -- the  _Venture_. He's asked Data to be his first officer. So I'll be heading to Earth in two months, and Jean-Luc told me he will also be there. He wants to take Deanna to see his home, I gather. Maybe he'll invite us over as well." She paused, studying him. "Are you planning to stay with the  _Enterprise_ until then?"

Wes shrugged. Part of him wanted her to ask him to come back. "I don't know," he said, opting for honesty. "So did Data really accept? He didn't say anything about it. I mean, the captain said that he did, so I know you're not wrong, but...."

"As far as I know. I haven't talked to Data about it but I could see how you would have to ask him. He may have come a long way but sometimes...." She sat back, letting her arm drop, and her smile waned. "Are you sure everything is all right?"

"Yeah, why?"

Mom shook her head and looked away for a minute. "I used to worry so much, when you stopped being so confiding with me. I told myself it was just you being a teenager. That all kids go through it. But you're not a kid anymore, and it feels like there's so much distance between us. I know you're readjusting, that it's like we have to get to know each other again, but I wonder if there's more to it. If you were mad at me, if there was something I didn't -- "

"Mom! Mom, stop," Wes exclaimed. "It wasn't anything -- you didn't do anything. I'm just -- I was a waste of everyone's time, I quit the Academy because I couldn't bring myself to stick around and it wasn't just what Starfleet was doing to those people," he said, the words spilling out all on their own. Her distressed expression was putting him in crisis mode. "I just can't figure out -- I don't know who I am, Mom. Who I'm supposed to be. I've always been your son, or Jack Crusher's son, or that weird kid who was an acting ensign, and then an alien tells Captain Picard I'm special -- everything I've been has been projected on me by someone and I just followed along and didn't think about any of it. And when it got harder at the Academy I felt like I had to just be better."

He had to stop -- she'd started to cry. She had her hand over her mouth and her eyes were full of anguish. 

"It isn't your fault," he said fervently, leaning in a little. "Sometimes things aren't anyone's fault. Sometimes it just happens and there's nothing to be done. I was a kid, and I was angry. When Dad died I was -- " The feelings of guilt and sadness knotted up in his chest, silencing him for a moment. "I felt like we were alone, together. You did your best but I could tell you were overwhelmed as I was with sadness. And it got better, when we came aboard the _Enterprise_ it finally felt like home. Then I was excited about the Academy. But when I got there, I just lost the enthusiasm."

She was grieving, but trying. "I hope I didn't pressure you too much. I tried to be encouraging. It seemed like you wanted to be there...."

"I know. I was confused, Mom. I didn't want to talk about it with anyone and so I tried to be tough, just get through it. It was my mistake. Not yours."

She was silent, looking down, and neither one of them seemed to know what to say. He took a deep breath.

"I'm going to do some research about universities and other schools on Earth," he said. "I'm helping Geordi with a project, for now. It's going well. And I promise I'll call at least once a week. I'm going to be okay, Mom."

"Okay," she said. A wavering smile did little to reassure, but at least she wasn't actively crying. "If you need anything you give me a call, though."

"I will. I love you, Mom."

After the channel closed and the screen went dark, Wes sat for a while with his regrets. He considered going to Ten Forward to distract himself, going to the hello-deck, doing something -- but instead found his way to the captain's quarters. When they let him in, he regretted coming in; both the captain and Deanna were sitting on the couch, each of them with a book in hand.

"What's wrong?" Deanna asked, her eyes meeting his and mirroring his distress.

"I shouldn't have come -- I didn't realize it was so late," he blurted. She was wearing a robe and her hair was brushed out and spilling down her shoulders. "But can I talk to you in the morning?"

"Me, or him?" She glanced at the captain.

"I'd like to talk to you, if that's okay."

"Of course. I can contact you after my morning appointments."

"Thanks. Good night."

"Good night, Wes," the captain said. They watched him leave. 

In the corridor, he cursed himself quietly, and headed down the corridor. He had a long way to go.


	3. Chapter 3

"Thanks for coming," Wes said, as Deanna sat down with him at the table in Ten Forward. It was deserted -- it tended to be in the morning.

"You were very upset last night. Did something happen?" Deanna always got right down to the point, when something was afoot. This morning she was back to the version of her with which he was most familiar -- in uniform, all her hair tidied back from her face and some of it falling down her back. She folded her hands on the table and waited for his answer.

"When I was coming to see you before, when I was a kid, we talked a lot about stuff -- do you remember what I said about my dad?"

"I remember some things. Not everything. I remember you felt some anger, at your parents, and guilt that you felt that way because you understood that some of what happened was beyond their control."

Wes looked out at the red-shifted stars -- the ship was traveling at warp, and it felt odd to be there and not know what their destination was. "I tried to tell my mom what it was really like for me, last night. I started to, but I think I can't."

When he turned back Deanna's eyes were full of sadness. "If she wants to know, you should tell her."

"I don't know," Wes said. "It's hard. Cruel. It hurts her. I don't want to hurt her."

"There is no greater joy or pain than being a parent. If she wants to know, you should tell her. Pain never lasts forever."

"Why do parents think they are so responsible for everything their kid does?"

Deanna smiled at that. "Until you are an adult, your parents are in fact legally culpable for anything that their child does. On most Federation worlds, anyway. There are some variances in that matter. But most human colonies and Earth have that in common. However, I'm sure you mean that emotional bond that parents have, that makes them feel irrationally attached to their children and the end result of that -- feeling as though they made mistakes that led to the adult child's failings, or perceived failings. Or simply feeling so attached that they grieve along with their child."

Wes hung his head and wished he could do things over. "I just -- left. I left everyone I cared about. I don't even know what to say to her about that."

"Has she said anything about it?"

"No."

Deanna tilted her head curiously. Classic Counselor Troi.

"Yes, I guess that means I feel guilty." He smirked at her. "Not necessarily that I should, or that she feels it -- I think she thinks it's her fault that I left. As if she had something to do with how I felt."

"Did she?"

That stopped him for a while. He slumped in his chair and stared at the table. "I used to think she knew everything," he said. "She told me that I'd do great at the Academy. She told me I could do anything. Be an engineer, a captain. But she never told me I could be anything else. But, that didn't mean I couldn't have -- "

"Wes," Deanna said quietly, calling him back from the downward spiral of rationalization. 

"Do you think I'm wrong?"

Deanna pressed her lips together as if hesitating to speak her mind. She seemed amused. "I think you're trying very hard to make sense of a past you might not remember so well. You've said that spending time traveling meant being incorporeal for unknown amounts of time, I wonder if it disrupted your ability to retain a coherent narrative of what came before. Maybe part of your confusion is in attempting to remember what led up to your departure?"

He thought she might be right; he'd said as much to his mother, and to the captain. That he couldn't remember some things in between the times he spent as a physical person, and traveling, and it bothered him -- maybe he was struggling with this because it had also affected his memories of before he'd gone traveling.

"I really am having a lot of trouble figuring this out," he said, embarrassed. 

"It's just a guess, based upon how disorienting it was for others, to return from similar albeit briefer experiences. Did you talk to Counselor Davidson?"

"Yes, but we didn't talk about this yet. It sounds like I need to really start to work on it before I try to talk to Mom again." He smiled at Deanna. "Thanks."

She gestured at the replicator in the corner. "We should get some tea and talk about other things."

"Yes. There's plenty to talk about. I'd like to know more about the Dominion War, from you instead of the articles I'm reading, if that's okay?"

Her face changed, but instead of the 'no' he expected from her obvious dislike for the topic, she said, "I can give you my limited perspective if that's what you want. I know it's what you need to orient yourself."

"I really appreciate it...."

 

* * *

 

The  _Enterprise_ reached its destination and Geordi was suddenly busy. So the entire afternoon was open, and Wes had already read everything related to the project. The only thing he could think to do was visit a holodeck, maybe run some simulations, play around with some ideas for their upgrade. But all of them were busy. Likely being used by crew from departments that weren't necessary for the mission.

So he went back to Ten Forward and looked out the viewports. And there was a vessel out there. He forgot about his cooling coffee as he examined it. A freighter, he thought. There tended to be a lot of rescues of commercial or civilian vessels -- if someone got lax on maintenance schedules or something unexpected happened, most weren't as well staffed as Starfleet vessels. Or they lacked updated technology.

"Yeah, that's us."

Wes turned at the wry comment, to find a man with long black hair neatly brushed back into a ponytail standing with hands on hips. He wore a brown vest over a long-sleeved green shirt, black pants, black boots and appeared to have a tattoo on his forearm. A little of it showed on the back of his left hand. Something with claws.

"Your ship? Are you the captain?"

The man smirked. "Yeah, that'll be the day. Captain Sorbin is talking to your captain. I'm the ship's medic, the janitor or the pilot, depending on where I am and what needs doing. At the moment we need the engineer and a bunch of parts."

"I guess your comms still work though."

The man's gray eyes fixed on his face at last. "I'm Grant McCormick."

"Wesley Crusher." He stood up, held out a hand, and after shaking hands gestured at the other chair at his table. Grant sat down, and eyed the coffee mug, so Wes called over the waiter of the day to bring him one. 

The first sip brought bliss to the man's face. "Best coffee I've had in weeks."

"Your replicators have been down?"

"Among other things. You can order food here?"

"Sure." 

That took little time, and after the waiter brought the bowl of stew and some bread the man requested, Wes watched him eat as if he were starving. After a few minutes Grant seemed to recognize how rude he was being, and looked up apologetically, swallowing and taking another mouthful of coffee. "Sorry. It's been ration packs for a week and a half. You have to be starving to choke the things down. This is  _really_ good."

"I've been in a similar situation, but not recently." Wes thought about the time he'd spent on a moon of Pentarus Five, with the captain and a man named Dirgo. When they'd returned to the  _Enterprise_ , the first thing he'd done upon being released from sickbay had been to eat this way. "Go ahead and eat."

He watched a shuttle make a circuit around the freighter while Grant ate the rest of his meal. There were several spots on the hull of the freighter where tiny plumes were visible against the black of space. Leaks, of things vital to the operation of a space-faring vessel, no doubt.

"This is an amazing ship," Grant said, finally shoving the bowl away from him and polishing off the coffee. He slumped in the chair, fingers meshed, hands resting on his pot belly. "Really amazing. Sleek, perfect -- I mean, I know you guys have been in that big war, probably fought hard battles with this baby, but you'd never know it looking at the thing."

"I wasn't aboard during the Dominion War. I'm visiting friends," Wes said. "This is my first visit to this particular ship. But you're right, it's pretty impressive. The latest in Starfleet technology -- and I know it's been in for major repairs multiple times. I think all the Starfleet vessels that survived the war must have been."

"So you're not Starfleet? Huh. I thought everyone aboard these ships had to be."

"My mom was the chief medical officer on the  _Enterprise_ for years. And there's been a civilian contingent aboard for a long time. That waiter included. There's a school for the kids. It's like a small city, really."

Grant glanced around again, and turned to watch another little shuttle heading out toward his freighter. "You have a lot of friends aboard?"

"Depends on what you mean by a lot. I have a few."

Grant smirked. He reminded Wes of Dirgo, in several ways; he had an attitude and a tired sort of arrogance about him. "Everyone here is so relaxed. It must be nice, being able to relax."

"How much of the ship have you seen? Ten Forward isn't going to be a good measure of what it's like on a starship. People come here to relax."

Grant laughed. "Yeah, I guess you've been to the bridge?"

"I have. I thought I was going to be in Starfleet for a while. But it was a bad fit."

That sobered up the man, and he smirked again as he watched the shuttles working. The smaller of the two was designed for working on hulls, had four arms with fingers to manipulate tools, and seemed to be working on the largest of the leaks. "A bad fit. That's me."

"What do you mean?"

"I went to Starfleet Academy," Grant announced, with the air of the greatly-offended and put-upon. "I did everything they said. I got kicked out for my trouble."

That might have really bothered Wes before. He resisted diving into his own history. "Really?"

"The thing about Starfleet officers that always bugged me -- the sanctimonious attitude, as if they all know everything. Like this," he waved at the viewport, "they just pull out a couple of shuttles and it's nearly done. Don't know what work is."

Wes bit back the defensive impulse to correct the man, and instead shrugged. "You think so?"

"All those instructors at the Academy told us how to think, how to act, told us these stories about heroes like Kirk. All to mold us neatly into exactly what they want. You know the type. Upright, moral, condescending. Look down on the hard working folks doing business the best they can." 

Wes listened to this rant while noticing, over Grant's shoulder, the door opening and Data arriving. The android approached their table, and Wes smiled up at him as he arrived. "Hi, Commander."

"Hello, Wes." Data turned his head, smiling pleasantly. "Mr. McCormick, your captain is requesting your presence on your vessel. If you would please report to transporter room one?"

Grant sighed. "See you round, kid. Thanks, Commander." He stood up, stretched, and meandered off to the door. After he left Ten Forward, Data turned back to Wesley.

"He's an angry man," Wes said.

Data tilted his head. "He is?"

"From what he was saying before you got here. How much longer do you think we'll be here, Data?"

"Mr. LaForge estimates we will have the  _Nicodemus_ under way within two hours. We are making good progress on replicating parts compatible with their systems." Data pointed at the chair. "May I?"

"Of course. I'd rather talk to you than that guy any day."

Data sat, and shook his head at the waiter's offer of something -- the waiter took the dishes Grant had left away, and the android faced Wes again. "Are you finding any clarity?"

He'd talked to Data at length the other day, while playing chess with him. "Not really. I'm thinking that I should be paying more attention to the newsfeeds on Earth and looking at possibilities for jobs rather than school. I can always go to school, maybe I should work for a while."

"I wonder if you have considered some of the contractors that work with Starfleet. I have been approached with offers," Data said.

"Really? Have you thought about it?" Wes found it bothered him that Data might consider leaving Starfleet. 

Data's expression was even more concerning. He appeared to be sad. "The captain has occasionally asked me whether I feel as though I am fulfilling my potential. Whether I feel that I could take command of my own vessel, or if there are other avenues that I might find worth pursuing. I have to date considered several. But I remain in Starfleet because I took an oath, and I believe that Starfleet continues to be my best option."

"The captain said that you're leaving the  _Enterprise_." He had hesitated to ask Data before. Broaching the subject had been more difficult than he'd expected. 

"Captain Glendenning contacted me and asked me to be his first officer," Data said, as if it was no big deal at all. "Captain Picard has told me that I will be missed, but that if I felt this was a good direction for me to go he would not discourage me."

That wording was suspect. "So, he didn't encourage you to go?"

"He told me that I was one of the finest officers he has known, and that he would miss me. But he would also like to see me continue to grow as an officer, and while the past two years as first officer aboard the  _Enterprise_ has been educational, so would serving with a different style of command on a different vessel."

"How well do you know Captain Glendenning?" There were of course other reasons to ask -- he couldn't keep himself from feeling concern, that his mother was apparently head over heels and planning to serve on the same vessel with him. 

"I do not. But Dr. Crusher -- do you not find Captain Glendenning to be acceptable for some reason, Wesley?"

Data must be better at picking up on facial expressions. "I don't know him. I got to Casperia after he left. I can tell from the wedding pictures and the way Mom talks to him that they're crazy about each other. But -- I just don't know him." He didn't know how to begin explaining to Data how he felt. Glendenning had seemed like a good guy, but there was just something.... He couldn't put a finger on it.

"Have you asked Captain Picard or Counselor Troi?"

"Not yet. I guess they know him pretty well?"

"There were not many people invited to their wedding. I would surmise that his presence indicates that they do," Data said.

"I'm supposed to see the captain to play raquetball later. Maybe I'll ask him then."


	4. Chapter 4

 

Deanna paced around the briefing room, arms crossed. "I don't know, Data." The first officer had called this meeting out of concern for Wesley. While she was concerned for him, as different as he was, he didn't seem as impaired as Data seemed to think.

Data watched her, turning his head to track her movements. "It was obvious to me that he did not remember our previous conversation, Counselor."

"To tell you the truth, I've been wondering if he's okay," Geordi said. He had his forearms crossed in front of him on the table. "We've been working on the inertial dampeners for three days. He just isn't himself. Wes would have been able to do some of this stuff in his sleep before."

"Doctor?" Jean-Luc prompted, looking to Mengis. When Data had brought this to his attention, the captain had immediately asked for a medical examination.

"I examined him this morning as requested, and found nothing physically wrong with his brain. Counselor Davidson administered a thorough mental status examination, and there were some indications of long term memory loss. He proceeded to ask questions based on Mr. Crusher's bio. He can't remember some of the basic facts about his own past."

"What do you suggest?" Deanna asked. "Is there anything that can be done?" She returned to her chair and sat down between Data and the doctor.

"He wasn't surprised," Mengis said. The doctor wasn't smiling, but he rarely did. "He asked the same question. I am well versed in neurology, but I am not a specialist. I believe we should find one when we reach Earth."

"Beverly told me that he seemed different, but she said it was understandable -- she seemed to feel that giving him plenty of time would be enough. Have you spoken to her, about whether she performed an exam and what her results were?" Deanna asked.

Mengis shook his head. "I accessed his medical records without contacting her. She performed a cursory exam when he boarded the  _Valiant_. Nothing in her results helps shed any light on the problem. You said that he was traveling? There are no exams in his record for years, since he was a teenager in fact."

"The Traveler is difficult to explain," Deanna said. "He wasn't using a conventional means of travel. Wes had some unique abilities that allowed him to move through space and time without a starship."

"I... don't know how to respond to that. What do you mean, 'unique abilities'?"

Deanna looked to the others, who looked to Data. "I do not know if it can be explained," the android said. "Perhaps Geordi?"

"I really can't explain it either," Geordi said. "He claimed that the power of thought could move him through subspace. They moved the ship all the way back to our universe from somewhere else, so I can't really argue with that."

Jean-Luc had the longsuffering, sad smile of a man who'd been through more than his fair share of improbable experiences. "I can provide logs regarding the Traveler if you think it will help, Doctor. But I suspect that the more productive choice would be to help Mr. Crusher as he is now, as I doubt there will be any clues that would be useful to you in the past. It seems that a decade of traveling around in the same fashion has caused some harm, and unless we can summon the Traveler himself we have little information as to how it actually occurred."

"Then I will contact a neurologist via subspace, and share the information on the patient's current condition, and hope that there is something to be done. In the meantime I will ask Mr. Crusher to report to sickbay on a regular basis, so that I might at least step in if his condition worsens." Mengis stood up. "May I be excused?"

"Of course. Thank you, Doctor." Jean-Luc watched the man leave the observation lounge. He turned back to the remaining three officers, leaning forward a little. "Have any of you shared your concerns with Wesley?"

"Not yet," Geordi said.

"I asked him if he had difficulties with his memory," Data said. "He agreed that was true. That he felt odd, and sometimes misplaced."

"The Traveler responded to Wesley, the subsequent times he came aboard," Jean-Luc said. "Might he respond this time?"

"Yeah, the time his mom was trapped in the warp bubble, he showed up at the last possible minute, when we were really desperate," Geordi said. "He responded directly to Wes."

"Did any of you ever hear from Kosinski, how he managed to come into contact with the Traveler in the first place?"

Deanna shook her head. "He had very little to do with any of us when he was aboard. No small talk."

"However, we may be able to contact Kosinski, and find out," Data suggested. 

Jean-Luc nodded approval. "Then you will make the attempt, Data. Thank you, gentlemen." 

Geordi and Data left, and Deanna waited, watching Jean-Luc's face as he thought further about this. He finally glanced at her. 

"You've said very little. What do you think?"

Deanna shook her head slowly. "I don't sense anything unusual from him. He is very different, from what he was and from what I might expect him to be. He's a sad, confused, lonely young man. I would anticipate some anxiety, and difficulty readjusting. If he is truly having memory issues, it may be that they will resolve over time as he completes the transition to being human again."

"But if he is forgetting -- if his memory is worse, over time, that suggests something is wrong. You know Data wouldn't lie or exaggerate."

"No, he wouldn't. But he has at times misunderstood."

Jean-Luc stood at last. "Well. I'm going to have a talk with Wes. We'll see how it goes from there."


	5. Chapter 5

Wes was startled by the computer announcing a guest. "Come in," he said, sitting up on the edge of the couch cushion.

The captain, in uniform, came in. The new style, black with gray shoulders and a red undershirt, suited him. He smiled and came over to sit on the end of the couch -- turned slightly toward him. "I wanted to talk to you about something, Wes."

"Something to do with why I was called in for an exam this morning?" The way the counselor had questioned him, he knew something was up.

The captain hesitated and seemed a little embarrassed, though he kept smiling. "We're concerned that you are showing signs of memory issues. Significant ones."

"Yeah. The counselor was quizzing me about my past. And I do lose track of time pretty easily. Computer, time."

"The time is now eleven hundred twenty-two."

He exhaled loudly. "Well. That's another two hours I won't get back." Then it occurred to him. "Did I forget I was supposed to meet you?"

"For lunch, in ten minutes. I'm a bit early." The captain studied him for a moment. "Do you remember what we talked about, when you came aboard? At dinner with myself and Deanna?"

Now he was going to be questioned by everyone -- but at least the captain was easier to tolerate. He knew the captain had his best interests at heart, and it wasn't just idle curiosity. "We talked about some of the things I do remember. Places I've been, some of the species I met. About Mom and her new job. You said a few things about Mr. Riker, and his girlfriend. Deanna explained her wedding dress because I asked if it was something from Betazed. We drank some wine. I got a headache and went to bed."

"Do you remember what you told us about visiting with your mother?"

"That I was a bit concerned about the Glendenning guy, and that she doesn't seem happy in her current posting?"

"Data said that he discussed his upcoming change of assignment with you three times. Do you remember when he told you?"

Wes thought about it with growing alarm. "We talked yesterday. I was surprised. Three times?"

"You know Data as well as I do, I think. The doctor will be asking you to come in on a regular basis, and referring you to a neurologist. If you agree. No one wants to force you into anything, Wes, but I think given the nature of what you've been through, it might be a good idea. Do you think the Traveler would be able to help you?" 

Wes blinked. The upwelling of dismay at the mention of the Traveler and fleeting memories of pain startled him. "I don't know. I don't think we'll be able to find him. I can't -- remember. But I kind of think that he's dead."

"Dead?" The captain was watching his face intently. "Do you remember anything at all about what happened?"

"That's the thing -- whatever it was, it happened while we were traveling, I mean moving through subspace -- other space, not subspace. A different space. A folded space. We were in another galaxy and moving toward a new one when.... Something happened. I just feel awful trying to think about it." Wes hung his head, trying to remember. He focused on the last memory he had of the Traveler -- he had an image of his face, dismayed, fear in his eyes, and one of his three-fingered hands reaching. For what? Something. And then they were moving -- phased and scattered across another plane of existence for a time. Except time was different -- they were on all planes, everywhere at once, beyond time, and then it was like grains of sand pouring down a funnel as they would drop back into a point in time, to a specific location and with specific beings. It was while they were funneling in that something had torn them apart, sending him reeling and falling and -- 

A hand on his shoulder brought him back. The captain had moved closer. Sat next to him, and his fingers gripped his upper arm tightly. "Wes."

"Sorry. I was really trying to focus."

"You were unresponsive. I called your name. You've been sitting here for half an hour. What was going on?"

"I was thinking about the Traveler, the last time I saw him, was with him. Feeling -- was I still here?"

"I wondered if you were trying to travel. You seemed to phase a little around the edges."

"I did?" Wes took a second to focus on his body. Sometimes he had been so tuned out that he lost track, and would return to physical form to find he was starving and weak, thirsty as hell. There was currently a hollow spot in his stomach and a fuzzy, hung over feeling that was frequently an after effect of traveling. "I guess I did. I didn't mean to."

"I understood that traveling puts you into a different space, where time and place as we know it have little meaning. If that's so, how could the Traveler be dead?"

"I don't know. It's just an impression that I have."

The door to his quarters opened, and Dr. Mengis came in; his green eyes were intense as they swept over him, and then he moved to the coffee table and opened his medical kit on it, taking out the tricorder. "Captain?"

"He seemed to start to phase out. I thought you might find it helpful to examine him afterward."

Wes almost laughed -- he had become one of Captain Picard's missions. He watched the doctor work, and was a little surprised when Mengis frowned, staring down at his tricorder. 

"Would you come to sickbay, Mr. Crusher?"

 

* * *

 

It took a full hour of patience. Mengis finally left him there, on the biobed staring at the ceiling, beneath the clamshell monitoring his body functions. He heard Mengis talking in low tones with one of the sickbay staff somewhere off to his left. The door hissed open, and then Counselor Troi stood at his right looking down at him with a smile.

"Hi," he said.

"The captain said you had an episode of some sort. How are you?"

"I feel better now. I'm not sure why it happened but I guess being very focused on the Traveler makes me start to phase out again."

"That would appear to suggest you haven't lost the ability after all. Perhaps you are getting better, rather than worse." She crossed her arms and seemed to be watching the readouts on the panel to his right. "What were you trying to focus on?"

"I tried to remember what happened to him. Why I lost track of him. We were traveling together, and then suddenly we weren't, and I remember falling. That's about it. Not even where I landed, or what happened after that. And time passed somehow. The next coherent memory I have is being in a hospital on a world in the Gamma Quadrant. I spent some time there trying to communicate with them, before the Federation ship arrived and I was able to use a universal translator to say thank you. They didn't seem too concerned about checking me over, just brought me back to Deep Space Nine."

Deanna studied him with her dark eyes, and he wondered what she was thinking. She touched his shoulder, a comforting pressure on his arm. It was a rarity to be touched. He'd spent so much time being noncorporeal that it felt strange. She must have sensed his reaction; she withdrew. 

"Would you like me to get you anything? Dr. Mengis said that he is continuing to monitor you, it sounds as though he wants you to be here for a while longer."

"Can you tell me if you've noticed me forgetting things?"

She leaned her hip against the side of the bed. "I forget things. The captain forgets things. If as the doctor says you are actually older than we expected, because you may well have been time traveling, I wouldn't be surprised if your remote past were a little fuzzy. And it is expected that you're disoriented after that mode of travel."

"So you don't think I'm forgetting conversations, like Data said?"

"I don't know if you are forgetting. I wonder if you are still phasing in and out."

That was an interesting thought. "You think that I'm skipping back and forth in time or something, instead of living in the linear now with all of you? That maybe I don't remember because the version of me you're talking to skips back and forth."

"It was just a thought. What do you think? When you are traveling, phased out of physical existence, what's it like?"

Wes sighed. "Like flying. Like being -- everything."

Footsteps preceded the doctor's return. Mengis looked down at him, holding the tricorder casually in front of him. "I've been doing an in-depth tissue analysis, in addition to a neurological scan. I can tell you that there are subtle changes in your DNA and some of your cells are altered, no longer quite human."

"So what's the prescription? What do you recommend?"

"I'm waiting for the neurologist I spoke to for recommendations, as your neurology has shifted from the norm for humans. I can begin to address the DNA here. Resequencing is straightforward enough but it will take time. This phasing that you do, is it under your control?"

"For the most part. I wonder if I'll have more control if you do this resequencing? I don't want to do it any more," Wes said. 

"I'll go set up for the procedure." Mengis left again.

Wes turned back to Deanna, to find her watching him solemnly. "Yes, I'm sure I want to do this."

"I have a theory," Deanna said.

"Okay?"

"I wonder if the Traveler was really a manifestation of you all along, after that first adventure with Kosinski," she said. "You remember that none of our instruments ever showed that he was there."

"But he was," Wes exclaimed. "I remember him, and everyone talked to him."

"From what the captain and Geordi said, he phased away in engineering after sending the ship back to our galaxy. Do you remember that? Do you remember how you felt at the time?"

Wes tried to think back. "I felt so good -- we did it together."

"But you stayed. You didn't fade away and vanish, even though you worked with him in the same manner. And before he vanished, he told the captain things about you -- how special you were and how you needed to be encouraged, but with the caveat that you not be told this. I think he did not want us to interfere and felt you should develop your abilities on your own schedule."

"Mom told me about that before I left at Dorvan. But why do you think that means I was projecting him myself, as a part of me? I spoke to him!"

"Wes, people argue with themselves and talk to themselves all the time. But most of us can't alter time and space to project an aspect of ourselves in a manner that others can perceive." 

"You make it sound like I'm a walking holodeck or something," he joked. "I wasn't doing that."

"I don't believe you did it intentionally, no. The Traveler supposedly returned to help you save your mother from a warp bubble, when you had given up, decided you were unable to do it yourself. He returned again to rescue you from desperately wanting out of Starfleet altogether. You wanted to be rescued and so you rescued yourself." Deanna put her hand on his head, brushing his hair back from his face. The gesture reminded him so much of his mother, was so unexpected, that it nearly made him cry. She leaned in with eyes full of sympathy. "Think about it. After your mother came back from the warp bubble, where did the Traveler go?"

He remembered standing in engineering, running to hug his mother, being happy to see her again. "I don't remember. We were talking to Mom, and after a few minutes I turned back to thank him and he was gone again." Geordi had even commented at the time on how odd it was that the Traveler had simply vanished.

"When we were on Dorvan, what happened there?"

"The Traveler -- " But even the Traveler had told him that he had pulled himself out of time, answered his own questions. "I thought I was being guided. He was there. He was -- one of the natives, and then he became himself, and told me we would spend time there and I would learn -- I swear he was there."

"Data contacted Kosinski," Deanna said. "We thought that if we could find the Traveler he might be able to help us to help you. Kosinski told us that the Traveler found him, not the other way around. That after leaving the  _Enterprise_ he attempted to find him again, actually went out on a long survey toward Tau Alpha C. There was no inhabitable world in that system. He doesn't know what happened, but he's never heard from the Traveler again."

Wesley thought about meeting the Traveler for the first time, again. Being so excited by the alien, and talking about warp physics, about Kosinski's equations and also feeling -- something. He hadn't thought of it as telepathy but it felt to him at the time as though he was vibrating on the same frequency as the Traveler, somehow, understanding things without extensive explanation.

"I don't understand."

"Wes, you are able to radically change yourself and travel across galaxies -- it makes no sense to me that someone who could do those things has forgotten how, or forgotten what happened. I think that all of what's happened to you is your unconscious mind. You wanted so very much to do great things, be an explorer, and this unique talent that you have responded to that by projecting itself as the one person who validated that you were that special and talented. I've never sensed that the Traveler was there. I've always sensed you."

"But there are creatures, aliens, you can't sense, like the Ferengi," he protested.

"I can sense enough of them to know they are people -- not sense emotion or thought, but presence. I can sense Q, when he appears. I remember the Traveler's first visit to the ship with Kosinski. I was surprised to hear that he had returned, because both times, I did not sense him as I did the first time. If you had been changed by external forces, I might see trauma -- you might forget because it was not something you chose to do and you reacted with extreme anxiety. But I think you have more control than you believe you do. And when you relax and accept being here and now, you'll find a way to remember. If you truly want to stay with us you can stay here, in this reality, in this timeline. I believe that you are special and I believe you can fully return to us. I'm not certain you're entirely ready to do that yet, however."

As she spoke tears started to fall down his cheeks. He let his head fall against the thin sickbay pillow, and she continued to stroke his hair as if he were a little boy again.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he had been wandering the universe, so self-assured, believing that the Traveler was guiding him. And maybe part of the reason he had fallen out of time, lost the desire to go on, had been the loss of whatever part of him had been projected -- maybe he'd finally lost the imaginary version of the friend who had been there at the start of his journey.

It settled within him and resonated, and as he accepted what felt true, as the shock of it dissipated, he remembered more.  

"Okay," he said at long last. "Okay."

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Wes entered Counselor Davidson's office and took his usual seat. The office was decorated in dark greens and browns. The counselor himself was waiting for him on the end of the dun couch, smiling. Ben Davidson was apparently one of Starfleet's conscripts from civilian life; people in the medical department were apparently being sent through an abbreviated version of the Academy to fill vacancies. 

"Hi, Ben," Wes said, seating himself on the other end.

"I understand we're arriving at Earth today. Have you made up your mind?"

They'd been talking about everything -- the more he remembered, the more he poured out in sessions, and the counselor reflected back to him and summarized, helping him make sense of it all. The doctor's efforts had helped him stabilize physically. After reviewing records from when the Traveler had been aboard, which the doctor had requested from Starfleet records as they had been stored with the rest of the logs from the 1701-D, Mengis had concluded that he had been on his way to becoming the Traveler in more ways than one. Whatever he had been doing, the more he'd traveled, the more rapid the progression was becoming. 

The realization had made it clearer, that he had a choice to make -- it was an easy choice, he'd already made it by returning to his family.

"I'm going to stay aboard until Mom gets to Earth," Wes said. "I don't want to just go wander around by myself."

"How has your mood been the past few days?" They ran through the question and answer series that let the counselor keep track of his mental status -- testing his long-term and short-term memory, and monitoring symptoms. And then Ben chuckled. "I think you might be stable."

"I feel really good, actually. A lot clearer. I haven't had that fuzzy feeling in days."

"That's great. It suggests you're out of the woods. Right?" Ben had a ready smile and used it often.

"I sure hope so. Geordi says I've been a big help, now that I can remember what we're doing from day to day."

"How do you feel about the idea of being done with counseling for now? Because it strikes me that you have some better things to do with your time, and I have three weeks off starting next week."

Wes laughed at it. "Sure. Are you going to the Captain Picard Day party?"

"That's right, they're having that today in the school. You want to go? If you want -- we were supposed to talk about you, though."

"I'm not sure I have a lot to talk about. Stable, y'know."

"Well, then."

They walked together through corridors and rode a lift, and arrived at the school as others did, in groups of two and three, smiling. The single room school was packed. There was a long table with all the entries laid out upon it, the usual array of clay, paper and even one made of wood.

Wes counted ten kids, all excitedly watching the captain pick up a framed picture of himself -- someone had resorted to a holo-camera and it likely was the kid who had been the ring bearer in the wedding, judging from the excitement the boy had, jumping a little and leaning on his mother. 

"I think we have some good entries this year," Deanna said. Wes turned to look -- she'd come up behind him and Counselor Davidson, and stood on Ben's left, watching the show.

"I like Lindy's statue. Particularly the detail on the uniform," Ben said. It was an impressive clay creation, standing about two feet tall on the end of the table. She'd had help -- it appeared to have been fired and then painted.

"What's the thing next to it?" Wes asked. There was another clay item but it was lying on the table rather than standing on it, and he couldn't make out the shape of it.

"It's something that Sorahk made," Deanna said. "The Vulcan child. He likes sculpting. It's the  _Enterprise_. He'll probably win."

Indeed, it looked as though he might -- the captain picked up the object and then Wes could see that it was exactly the shape of the ship, and painted a dark gray. Picard smiled at it approvingly. The sole Vulcan child hurried over, leaning across the table, and a brief murmured exchange passed between them. Then the captain put it down and picked up Lindy's statue, holding it high.

Laughter and clapping, and the little girl twirled and leaped her way over to tell the captain how long it took to make it and all the superfluous details she could come up with. 

Wes turned to look at Deanna again. "He's gotten a lot better about these things, hasn't he?"

"Definitely. You'll be at the party later?" There was a small party planned in Ten Forward for the senior staff and a few others, Malia and Wes included. 

"Wouldn't miss it. I have my present wrapped and ready to go."

They watched him make the rounds, speak briefly to each child and parent, and at last the captain reached them. "I have nowhere to put my statue, so I donated it to the school," he said.

"A logical choice," Deanna said. "You liked the starship better, though."

"Sorahk informed me that Lindy spent a week caught up in her project, and he knew she would be very happy if she won. As he had no feelings on the matter, it was logical for her to win." The captain was smiling and amused. "Hello, Wes."

Wes grinned at him. "Sorry I didn't have an entry this year. But they told me I was too old."

"I had hoped to retire this holiday," the captain said. He watched Lindy triumphantly carrying her statue around the room showing it to people. "But I seem to be sufficiently reluctant this year."

"Lindy may remember last year too well," Deanna said. Her eyes laughing, she glanced at Wes. "Did he tell you that Lindy volunteered to be our flower girl? We weren't originally planning to have one."

"Aw, that's cute," Wes said. "She's going to be an ensign soon, y'know."

"Not everyone goes that way. She wants to be a teacher," Deanna said.

Wes stared at her, and as he felt the regret, her expression changed to one of concern. And Davidson also watched him with a subdued smile. He shrugged uncomfortably.

"Maybe I'll be a teacher too," he said, looking at the captain instead of either counselor. "All my favorite people have been great teachers."

Deanna's smile came back. "I think you might have something there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next to rewrite - Turning for Home, which gets an overhaul.


End file.
